


Once I Start (I Cannot Help Myself)

by themunak



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themunak/pseuds/themunak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Desmond, would you please cease and desist before you take someone’s eyeball out? We don’t have a steady supply of replacement organs lying about.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once I Start (I Cannot Help Myself)

**Author's Note:**

> For the [kinkmeme](http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1611.html?thread=7975499#cmt7975499).
> 
> Originally posted at Tumblr.

Desmond was _flying_. Higher than that one time when he was at that "let's try everything once" stage and smoked a joint. Higher than when he'd gotten morphine for breaking a leg back at the Farm.

And yet he hadn't been taking any illegal substances. All he'd been doing was take down Templars. Despite his muscles protesting from lack of any proper action since getting shoved into the Animus, he was still up and raring to go, still ready to fight. He was antsy, constantly flicking his hidden blade in and out of its snug compartment, and not even his fingers could stop moving as they moved from the first place to... someplace. Somewhere else in Italy.

He didn't even care about where they were going. That's how high he was, unable to give a fuck about anything but the adrenaline that was pumping through him and making him hyperaware of his own body, feeling his heart beat like it was going to start vibrating his ribcage out of his chest.

Was this how Altaïr and Ezio felt when they made their own kills, sunk their blades into their marks' soft flesh and gotten away from a horde of angry guards and panicking citizens to do it all over again?

Jesus.

It's probably the high talking, but he didn't mind getting into a skirmish again.

_Jesus_.

He needed an outlet.

"Desmond, would you _please_ cease and desist before you take someone's eyeball out? We don't have a steady supply of replacement organs lying about."

He looked up to see Shaun staring at him over his glasses, and Desmond shot him a frown of his own. Shaun tilted his head up a little at him, as if challenging him to make a smart comment of his own. Limey dick. See if he'd be such an ass with a fist in--

"Guys, break it up. This isn't the time." Lucy.

"You can go do that macho posturing stuff later once we've made a pit stop." Rebecca.

He leaned back, acquiescing to the request, but he didn't keep his eyes off of Shaun, who did look away to keep his own eyes on the road.

\----------

The "pit stop" was a cabin in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, and was boring as all hell.

Shaun and he made it more interesting with a tussle outdoors and well away from the girls who would no doubt forcibly separate them if they saw just what the hell was going on. Shaun's glasses were askew but not broken and his fists were curled in Desmond's hoodie, and Desmond's lips were probably bitten and swollen and his back would probably be a patchwork of bruises from where the tree bark was digging in but _shit_ he didn't care.

_This_ was his outlet, and like Altaïr in Solomon's Temple, high and proud, his blood was just singing for more.

"Is this what you want, Miles? A half-mad snog outdoors and hiding from the girls like we're a couple of oversexed teenagers?" the bastard hissed in his face as they broke for some air. He was stronger than he looked, and looking at him, a guy sitting at the computers all day and possibly fapping over long-dead people and ass-old architecture at night, you wouldn't think he was capable of banging your head against a tree.

But he was, oh he was, and it clicked in Desmond's mind that Shaun was really, really an assassin underneath the tacky, shapeless sweater vest and douchebag-grade loafers.

Desmond snarled and yanked the asshole's button up out of his pants, because hell no would he let Shaun get the upper hand. "Shut up and put your smart mouth to better use."

He bit Shaun's lower lip for emphasis, before shoving his tongue in and trying to inhale every little bit of air that came out of Shaun's mouth. Shaun gave just as much as he got.

"You-" lick "-bloody-" nip "-Yank-" _bite_. Shaun was now top naked and getting more annoyed, and more handsy and holy shit, Shaun was _hot_ when pissed off. If it was possible to feel more lightheaded in an adrenaline rush, Desmond was definitely past the clouds and heading straight onto heaven now, and he just loved kissing Shaun's mouth.

So kiss it he did, over and over, till he couldn't even feel his own lips. Till he had a hard time even getting his shit straight with lack of oxygen to the brain. And all the while Shaun was pinning him to the tree, looking like some kind of pasty white god who was getting pissy because Desmond was already having trouble getting his legs to work.

The endorphin rush was starting to kick in, and all Desmond could do when asked what was up with him was to grin like an idiot, eyes half-glazed over.


End file.
